Boy with a Coin
by alicinna
Summary: Mob AU.  Booth is the agent trying to bringing down the Keenan family's organisation. A dead body brings focus to the investigation and Booth comes face to face with one particular member of the Keenan family.


**Boy with a Coin **/ _Mob AU. Booth is the agent trying to bringing down the Keenan family's organisation. A dead body brings focus to the investigation and Booth comes face to face with one particular member of the Keenan family._

Prompt from the cliche!fic comment fic meme at bitesized_bones. _Mob AU. Instead of becoming a scientist, Brennan joined Max and Russ in the Keenan family business. Booth is the agent tasked with bringing them down. _

I don't tend to write long plotty fics often, and my first attempt in Bones fandom. And an AU as well! I'm a bit nervous about it. This chapter is a little short, but I wanted to get something up and see if people liked it.

I have had a bit of a guess at how the FBI organises itself, based on my many years experience watching American TV. ;)

**Chapter 1**

Gathering the collection of files from his desk, Booth set out towards the big office at the far end of the room. He hated breaking in a new boss - it made him cranky. He sometimes though he should apply for the job himself, but he didn't want to be stuck in a office any more than he already was. You didn't solve crimes sat behind a desk, you needed feet on the streets and brains in the interrogation room. Besides, taking the next step up the ladder meant he would be supervising more than one operation at any given time and he could never give up on this case. It had been his life for over four years, and damn it, he didn't leave things unfinished.

Pausing outside the dawn he checked his phone one last time - no messages. With a sigh he slipped it back into his pocket and knocked on the office door.

"Come in!"

Deep breathing, Booth reminded himself, before he entered.

Sometimes Booth got on with the people in charge. They were busy, lots of operations and agents to oversee, and they tended to be grateful that someone with Booth's experience was heading up this particular case, enough to let him run his own ship, as it were.

Sometimes they wanted to get involved, which was fine, he could send them reports and bring them in whenever they got an important break, let them take some credit - he was more interested in results than having his face on a coin.

Sometimes they wanted more than that. They started sending orders down, do this, do that, stop spending so much money, pull this agent out - it could disrupt months of work, easily, and all Booth could do was grit his teeth and find some way to do as he was told without undermining everything he was working for.

Cullen was one of those, it seemed. The meeting hit the four hour mark and they were knee deep in reports from one of his undercover agents, (he'd had to send Charlie to get more files from his office,) with Booth arguing the cost-effectiveness of having this particular agent in this particular position.

"It seems a relatively unimportant place to keep a well-trained, experienced and highly paid agent."

"Yes sir, it does appear that way, but we've actually found that this kind of consistent low level presence has revealed just as much, if not more information than agents who have tried to get involved higher up in the organisation. It's a vital part of the strategy I've developed - "

"- a strategy that doesn't seem to have had much in the way of results, Agent Booth. Perhaps _we_ need to rethink this strategy, and put some of these experienced agents to better use."

Booth frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know we haven't had results from these agents, but the benefits have been ... unmeasurable."

Cullen leaned back in his chair. "I can believe that," he said, surprising Booth. "Unfortunately, the FBI measures results in arrests and convictions, and there have been surprisingly few of either coming out of your office. I say surprising, because everyone agrees that you are running a very efficient, dedicated operation and no one disputes that there has been a high level of information coming in. But eventually we've got to move out of the re-con stages of this thing and into the blood and guts of the battle. Do you understand?"

Booth nodded stiffly.

"Good. I don't want to take apart any of the work you've done, but I do want to see evidence of this operation moving forward." Cullen stacked files while he worked. "I want a full account of the actions of every undercover agent by the end of the week. That'll be all."

Booth picked up the additional files he'd had Charlie bring in. "Yes sir."

Back in his own office, he threw them onto the table by the door and stared at the wall for a few moment, trying to force the anger and frustration from his mind.

"Hey there, Cherie."

He spun, surprised. "Caroline?"

"Oh, you do _not _look happy. New boss?"

Booth gritted his teeth and sat down behind his desk. "It's fine. Can I do something for you?"

"Well, I've got an unpleasant little murder you could try solving. If you aren't too busy that is."

Booth couldn't help but smile. "Sure thing, Caroline."

She passed him yet another brown folder - honestly, some days he had nightmares about drowning in these things. Flipping it open he saw a familiar sight.

"Oh boy," he breathed.

"Looks like someone pissed off the head of your very _favourite_ family."

"Looks like," Booth agreed. The photos showed a body tied to a cross, burnt, the remains of the victim's guts piled on the floor by his feet. All the typical signs that Max Keenan had personally executed this particular crime. "The body - "

"Shipped to the Jeffersonian. Your squints should be all over this by now. You can thank me later," she added.

"Hmm?" Booth replied absently, flipping through the photographs.

"Well, I'm guessing your new boss is going to want some results. A nice, juicy murder is bound to give him something to focus on for a while."

"Well, I guess I should thank Max Keenan for that."

"I guess you should." Caroline shook her head at him, then left him to the report. Still reading through the file and he stood and pulled on his jacket. Finally he closed the folder, checked his phone one last time, and then headed out the door. He had some squints to see.


End file.
